Inside The Tent
by GoldenGirl
Summary: Picks up where the Season 3 Finale left off. Just before rescue comes. SKATE. Complete.


Disclaimer: I don't own Lost

Spoilers: Up to the Season 3 finale

Pairing: Sawyer/Kate

AN: Takes place right where the finale left off, back at the beach.

Inside the tent.

He sleeps on his back.

He's not sleeping now, his eyes might be closed but he's just resting. She knows he's not sleeping by how he's talking to her. He's talking a lot of nonsense. But a lot of lucid nonsense.

"You just twirl them 'round your finger, don't you? You're so good, that's what it is, it's that you're good. You're good at being good looking and that reals 'em in. And you're sure as hell good at being a flirt, no a _tease_, that's the hook. And you're good in between the sheets. Very good. Sinker. Yeah, you had them all wrapped 'round your _pinky _finger. You got _me _wrapped."

He's so tired he's in one of those states where he just can't shut up. It's as if he were drunk. Only he's a silent drunk, she already knows that. Anyway, his talking amuses her.

A smile sneaks onto her face. His eyes may be closed but still she tries to hide it.

She is laying on her side. Her head is by his side. Her smile touches his side, right by his ribs. He can feel it.

"You know I'm right," he murmurs. "I know you. I know you."

"I have you wrapped?" She asks. Innocently. As if.

He says nothing and she thinks maybe he has fallen asleep.

-----

After the trek and after she splashed him and after he shot Tom, they came back.

Kate's tent was gone. Blown up. Three tents were picked as targets for the explosions and of course hers was one of them because apparently it was pretty feasible for Kate to be sleeping with someone and get pregnant and the Others would ask no questions. Nobody said that, but it was the underlying determining factor. Funnily enough, she _was _sleeping with someone and she _was_ possibly pregnant.

Not so funnily enough.

She was anxious, worried.

So maybe she was pregnant. And when rescue came, she'd be sent away for a long time. And Sawyer wasn't talking to her. This last bit, as minor as it seemed, really tipped the scales. It was something she could easily fix, something he had control of, in light of her other two predicaments. She wanted to talk to him. She needed to.

But he'd just shot Tom. And she'd never seen him in a more sour mood. Perpetual scowl. He'd taken all the beer he'd stored and downed it. One after the other, as many as he could take, all while sitting in front of his tent. Everyone avoided him. She just watched, from where her tent used to be. This is partly how she knew he was a silent drunk.

After a while she saw him stumbling into the jungle, off to get sick she was sure. She left him a bottle of water on his seat.

When he came back, the back of his hand wiping his mouth, he saw the water and stopped. He turned to look at her. He didn't even need to scan the beach or anything; he knew exactly where she was standing.

This one look was enough for her. Enough of an invitation. She followed him into his tent, and he didn't protest.

In fact, nothing much was said. As soon as they were seated, facing each other, all she did was put her arms around him. As much for him as for herself.

He didn't need to tell her what had transpired in the jungle, with Locke. And he didn't.

He accepted her embrace, melted into it like a sigh of satisfaction. Or solace. He let his face fall into her hair.

They stayed like that for a while, a lot of things left unspoken. But the obvious was not lost on the them. The obvious being that they were be going to be stuck on an island for a few days yet. And after that, everything was just a big Who Knows.

They spent that night, and part of the nest day, never once not touching. Maybe their shoulders just leaned against each other, or maybe their feet lay intertwined, but they touched.

In the morning, when he got up to go and pee, Kate followed suit just a few moments later. As if she was so unaccustomed to even the briefest absence. And it didn't bother her so much that some people caught sight of her as she emerged from his tent, early in the morning. Little things did not bother her at that time. For example, she knew it was stupid to argue about old habits and needing to spend the night in a familiar bed. She knew it was stupid to argue about anything.

-----

They spend a lot of time laying leisurely and little time outside of the tent.

Sawyer on his back, shirtless, an arm over his head; Kate, on her side, shirtless, an arm over him.

When the sun is at its highest point, and the gaps in the tarp allow it to burn right through, Kate lays on her stomach while Sawyer lazily sweeps his palm over her browning back.

When it is night and chilled they lay close to one another. Back to chest, ass to groin. Kate brazenly using his arms to wrap herself with.

When they sleep, in every meaning, it is face to face.

When Kate's cheeks are flushed, from heat or from love, Sawyer will stare at her for a long time and tell her she is beautiful. When Sawyer's own cheeks blush, Kate is unable to keep from touching them. She touches them a lot, her fingers curling around his jaw, his growing stubble.

When Sawyer is very tired, and about to fall asleep, he has lengthy conversations about nothing. Mostly the conversations are with himself because Kate only listens. And smiles. And laughs.

They do not talk about anything monumental. They do not say that Kate will likely go to prison. They do not say that she is pregnant. They do not talk about the fast-approaching future at all.

"I have you wrapped?"

He says nothing and she thinks maybe he has fallen asleep.

But then his fingers find her hand on his chest as he squeezes. "Wrapped around your fingers," he says. "Literally."

Outside the tent, someone thinks they see a boat.


End file.
